


Rawhide

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Gags, Ice Play, Leather, Leather Culture, Leather Kink, M/M, Masks, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Wax Play, really more just ball torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: Leather looks good on Newton Geiszler.





	Rawhide

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Newmann Porn Fest 2k18 with the prompt "Leather."
> 
> Thanks to freezerjerky for the beta. You rock :D

Newt has always been a leather kind of guy. He's not sure when the obsession started. Maybe it was having his face shoved into his boyfriend's nice leather jacket the first time he got fucked, soft against his skin and overpowering him with its pleasant scent. Maybe it's the sheer amount of leather that was part of the scenes he watched when his burgeoning sexuality sent him scurrying through the corners of the web, looking for free porn. Leather also just feels good; soft and supple on the skin. Slipping on an old, well-worn leather jacket is like sliding into himself, peak Newton Geiszler. So, it's kind of his thing.

And Hermann has indulged this since the beginning of their weird, somehow very healthy and satisfying sex life. The first time Newt pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and mumbled an embarrassed but excited explanation about how the feeling of them around his wrists was grounding, calming, Hermann had simply nodded and strapped them on. The simple act of Hermann being the one to buckle him into each separate cuff was erotic in and of itself, and when he went down to his knees to give Hermann a grateful, eager blowjob, Hermann stroked his hands across the cuffs, twisted them back and forth so they slid around Newt's wrists, and told Newt how handsome he looked wearing them, how he could wear them every time if he liked. Newt didn't even have to be touched to come, ruining his boxers but gaining the newfound knowledge that Hermann wasn't going to shame or make fun of him for his fetish. If Hermann was at least accepting of Newt's oddity, then that would be enough.

Except Hermann isn't just accepting. He's _indulgent_. He took it upon himself after that first time with the leather cuffs to snoop around in Newt's closet and he discovered the chest of his leather gear buried under a pile of inconspicuous clothes. Newt had been so mad until Hermann asked him to put some of it on. He wanted to see what it looked like, wanted to understand what Newt was getting out of it. So, Newt had strapped on a harness, unearthed the leather pants he hadn't worn in three years and wiggled into them.

Then Hermann had put him on his back on the bed and smoothed his hands across the material, the press of heat and leather combined getting Newt very, very aroused, barely able to answer when Hermann had asked him to describe how it felt. But Newt had tried. He'd tried to explain the sheer variety of emotions that he felt every time: protected, empowered, erotic, attractive, masculine, comfortable, authentic. The leather was like a second skin, an armor he could put on to face the world and exert his sense of self.

Hermann had fucked Newt after that with the leather pants around his ankles, gripping the harness and pulling back every time he thrust forward. It was a dream come true. Newt had babbled a lot then: things he wanted Hermann to do to him, crazy weird fantasies, most involving leather, and Newt gets the feeling nowadays that Hermann basically made a checklist of what he'd said in the heat of the moment and has slowly been working through it over the past six months.

Tonight's scene came about from a flimsy excuse; the best kind, as the pettiness of the offense means that neither of them are angry or hurt and won't draw on that negativity in the bedroom. Newt had gotten some coffee stains on some reports Hermann was planning on sending to the Marshall. He'd simply redone them, but Newt had been careless, and if there is one thing Hermann seems to love, it's making Newt pay for these little careless mistakes.

"You've been very naughty today, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says as he backs Newt against the door of his bedroom, three fingers curled around Newt's skinny tie, smiling in a devilish sort of manner. "What if I'd sent those reports to the Marshall as they were, hmmm? My professionalism would have been in question, all because you felt the need to invade my personal space and splash your revolting excuse for a cup of coffee over my things."

"Four sugars and three creams are perfectly delicious," Newt counters, swallowing as Hermann loosens the knot of his tie with steady fingers. "Get over it, Gottlieb. I don't have to listen to you."

"You don't, but you _will_ ," Hermann replies, sliding the tie off and tossing it onto the nearby desk. "Take your clothes off. If you won't admit you're sorry, I'l going to have to teach you to be."

"Go ahead and try, " Newt says, smirking as he yanks his shirt up off his head. He fumbles with his pants as Hermann moves to the closet to pull out the chest with all his gear. Newt's hands are shaking from excitement, anticipation. They haven't done a good scene in weeks, worn down and stressed out from the latest wave of Kaiju attacks, working overtime. They both need to let a little steam off, which was kind of the whole point of starting this relationship.

Newt works his pants down his hips as Hermann returns and holds out a harness. It's a very simple thing, one strap across his chest, attached to metal rings that attach to two more straps that go over his shoulders and under his armpits, and another strap across his back. Hermann slides the harness over him as Newt toes his socks off. He tightens the buckles in the back, and the leather sings against Newts skin. He flexes his arms and chest, and he can feel the material move with him, cradling his upper body. Armor, protection, grounding him. The nervous, twitchy feeling he's been running on all week is starting to peter out.

"If you're apologetic, you might get a treat later," Hermann says.

"Later, why not now?" Newt whines impatiently.

Hermann shakes his head, tutting. "You haven't earned it yet. You still need to show remorse."

"I have nothing to be sorry for!" Newt insists, playing along with the game. "You're so petty, dude. Let it go."

Hermann simply smiles and steps up in front of him. Naked but for the harness, it's easy for Hermann to reach down and cup Newt's balls. His cock is hard, has been for a few minutes, and the squeeze makes Newt groan, hips jerking upwards. His body responds, already wanting Hermann to move on to the part where he gives Newt a good dicking, but the little, minuscule bit of Newt's brain that is capable of waiting for long term gratification tells him that this is a _bad_  idea, and he'll get even more of what he wants if he's patient.

"Stand at the foot of the bed," Hermann orders, letting go of Newt's balls and patting his hip. "Chest on the mattress, arms at your sides."

Newt gives a halfhearted grumble and moves away. His sheets are soft as he presses his upper body to them, rubbing against his exposed nipples and pushing the harness straps into his skin. Maybe he can get Hermann to tighten the straps more, make them bite into his skin, leave some marks. He'd like to feel the ache for a while. For now, though, he rests his face against the mattress and breathes out, keeping his eyes forward, trying not to explode with eager excitement.

He can feel Hermann's presence behind him. One of his wrists is clasped and drawn behind his back, and Newt bites back a moan as leather is buckled around it. His other wrist is brought back the same way, binding them together. Newt tests the straps, giving Hermann his best ability of a thumbs up, because he knows Hermann will fuss at him otherwise.

There's rustling, and Newt feels Hermann's hand cupping his balls again, squeezing, and then something _else_  being wrapped around them, squeezing even tighter and tugging them back.

"Fuck, oh _fuck_ , you're using that?" Newt groans, whining as Hermann secures his balls into the leather ring attached to a leather cord, and then gently leads the cord back and up to slide into a loop on the leather cuffs. Hermann slowly pulls the cord farther and farther through the loop, and it forces his wrists down as the tension on his balls increases, pulling them back against his taint. Newt strains when Hermann ties off the cord, trying to take some of the pressure off; any shift or pulling on the cuffs will cause his balls to be pulled back, stretched and squeezed by the ring. The intensity is usually powerful, and the position Hermann has left him in is intimately vulnerable. Yet, bound in the leather he feels comfortable, secure and safe.

"You insist on making trouble," Hermann replies, patting his backside and making him twitch, which causes him to jerk on the cord and his balls in turn. Newt sinks his teeth into the mattress and whines. His cock is pinned between the bed and his belly, and he can already feel dampness. He knows that whatever comes next, he's going to struggle to handle without blowing his load. It's been _so_  damn long -- at least it feels like that -- and he's young and his libido is high.

"It's not trouble, fuck... it's your pedantic ass finding bullshit excuses to take it out on me," Newt argues. Half the fun is getting Hermann riled up, seeing his responses to Newt's baiting. He expects some sort of discipline, maybe a tug on the cord or a yank on the harness, but there's nothing, and the only sound is Hermann rustling in the chest. "What are you looking for?"

"Something to take it out on you, as you've decided I'm doing," Hermann replies. The rustling stops, and Newt feels Hermann press up against him, smooth fabric of his slacks connecting with Newt's ass cheeks, a firm length against the back of his thigh. Newt sighs and presses back, wishing there were no fabric, nothing to keep him from rubbing up against Hermann's heated skin. A hand skims his side, and he shivers, twisting his head back and catching Hermann's eye. "Hold still, Newton. When you're ready to apologize, let me know. Safeword?"

"Deoxyribonucleic acid," Newt replies.

"I really wish you'd pick a shorter one," Hermann says. "In the heat of the moment..."

Newt rolls his eyes. "If I ever forget DNA, Herms, hook me up to a brain scanner, 'cause I've definitely got something wrong with me. Now get on with it, since you think I'm gonna apologize to your petty ass."

Hermann's smile deepens into a smirk. "Sass, going to have to beat that out of you as well."

Before Newt can ask how he plans on getting rid of one of Newt's hard-wired personality traits, there's the sound of whooshing air, and a stinging blow to Newt's left buttocks. Newt yelps and jerks and then yelps again from the pull of the cord on his balls. He feels the heat of the strike, the ache that comes on a moment after the sting, and from the weight of the object, the velocity and the sound it made, he knows what it is. Hermann has taken the squat, square leather paddle from the chest. The second blow to the opposite buttocks confirms his hypothesis as he can feel the imprint of a shorter rectangle shape from the paddle.

" _Fuck_ ," Newt gasps, pressing his forehead into the mattress. "I always forget you've got some arm strength. I usually presume your limbs are like chicken legs."  
  
"Considering how often you see my arms and legs, Newton, I doubt that," Hermann replies. The third blow returns to the left side of Newt's ass, right over the same spot. Newt digs his nails into his palms, grinding painfully into the mattress. The relief of the motion is worth the sharp ache of his sack being stretched, as his arms tense and pull away from his body.

"What are you even trying to get out of this, dude?" Newt taunts through gritted teeth. "Compensating for something? Jealous of how amazing I am? The list goes on and on with you."

"Keep talking," Hermann says as the fourth blow lands. "I'll ensure you won't be able to later on."

Ugh, that's not fair, Newt wants to know what he means. A cloth shoved between his lips, or a ball gag, or a cock down his throat? Possibilities, so many possibilities.

He tries so hard to keep still, but each blow feels harder than the last, and his cock is aching to be touched. The leather ring jerks on him over and over. His ass is starting to feel like a chunk of tenderized meat. Still, Hermann continues, and Newt knows he is very keen and adept at knowing how much Newt can take, and he can certainly take more of this. He starts to wonder if Hermann is trying to work him to that breaking point, so that he'll babble some half-assed apology. It's getting harder to think. Short, sharp strikes. His prick throbbing against his belly. He hisses as Hermann's cool hands skim across the heated surface of his skin.

"Are you ready to apologize?" Hermann asks. "If you're trying to hold out, you're only going to make this worse on yourself. I can take a rest and start up again. You can stay bent over this bed all night for all that I'm concerned. I will not be undermined by you, Newton. It's time you learned that."

" _F-fuck_  you," Newt growls, panting into the sheets and squirming. It's so hot, he's so hot and he needs friction. "You're a spiteful bastard."

"I'm also the bastard holding the paddle," Hermann reminds him, sliding the object down the middle of Newt's ass. "And you've no way of getting out of this without my allowing it. So, I suppose we'll start up again."

Newt squeaks as Hermann lands a light blow against his sack before returning to spanking his rear end. His cheeks must be red at this point, the skin raw and irritated by the abuse. It contrasts with the smooth slide of the leather cuffs around his wrists, a comforting restriction as Hermann works him over. Newt closes his eyes and huffs ragged air. His legs shake, he wonders what Hermann will do if he crawls up onto the bed or drops to his knees. Probably yank him back into position and tug on the cord for some easy ball torture as punishment.

"Reconsidering your position, Newton?" Hermann asks after another few blows. "I'll give you another chance. You might want to think about whether you'd like to be able to sit properly tomorrow."

Newt probably could take a little more, but this session isn't about abusing his ass until he cries and begs for relief (though they've done that before and it's surprisingly cathartic). So, he twists his head to catch Hermann's eyes when he walks to the side of the bed and tries to look properly deferential.

"I'm sorry," Newt mumbles.

"Tell me what you have to be sorry for, Newton," Hermann replies, smirking.

"You can't just take the sorry, dude?" Newt grumbles, wincing when Hermann raises the paddle. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry I got coffee on your paperwork and shit."

"And shit?"

"Y'know. Called you names. Anything else you wanna add to my list of sins?"

Hermann smiles, shaking his head. "I think I've almost forgiven you." He reaches out and strokes a light hand through Newt's hair, and Newt arches up into it, ignoring the strain it puts on his sack in favor of enjoying the touch. He loves Hermann's affection when he deigns to give it, which is not as often as Newt would like. "Though I have one more requirement to your apology."

"And that is...?"

Hermann rests his cane against the bed and crawls onto the mattress. He grabs Newt by the shoulders and hoists him up, grinning at the distressed yelp Newt lets out when his hands jerk upwards. He lands face first into Hermann's lap, no way of breaking the fall, but it's fine because Hermann is unzipping his pants and loosing himself from the confines of the fabric. Newt doesn't have to be told twice, opening his mouth as Hermann lifts his shoulders and positions him so Hermann's cock can slide down his throat.

Newt suckles on the length happily. He loves this, the feel of Hermann's weight on his tongue, the soothing hands Hermann will card through his hair, down his scalp and neck, across his shoulders. The heady musk of the hairs that tickle his nose, the sweet noises Hermann makes as Newt devilishly uses his tongue to take the other man apart. Newt wants to touch him, but his hands are still bound behind his back, attached to his own aching cock by the balls, and the best Newt can do is rub his cheek against the inside of Hermann's thigh.

If this was the only event for the evening, Newt wouldn't necessarily mind. He’s had a lot of fun already, but from the way Hermann is jerking into his mouth, gripping his scalp and forcing his cock deeper down Newt’s throat (god that’s hot, that’s so fucking _hot_ ) like he's trying to get off quick, Newt assumes there will be more. It's a good instinct, because after Hermann comes he leaves Newt lying on the bed, patting his cheek and mumbling for him to stay put.

"I've made a few purchases," Hermann explains as he returns to the closet. Newt is facing the headboard and can't see him, but he can hear plastic crinkling and cardboard tearing. "Some things we've spoken of, but you do not have in your collection."

"You bought me shit?" Newt asks, grinding against the mattress, the ache in his cock eased by the pleasant motion. "I thought you said I had to fund any bedroom accessories? Since it's my fetish and all."

"And yet you haven't added anything to your collection since our relationship began," Hermann reminds him. "So, I decided that there was no reason I could not make your birthday present fulfill some of your needs. Happy early birthday, on that note."

"Awww, Herms, I'm touched," Newt says in a tone half-teasing, half genuine. "What'd you get me?"

Hermann comes back into view, one hand held behind his back. He smiles shyly as he seats himself back on the bed, biting his lip. "I picked this out because I believe you'd enjoy the style. If you do not, we can always exchange it for another one."

Newt grins, struggling and pushing himself up onto his knees, bouncing excitedly, his cock jumping in tandem. "Dude, show me, show me!"

Hermann chuckles and brings his hand out to the front, and Newt gasps. He holds a leather hood, stippled with metal rivets, buckles across the back to secure it to the wearer. There is a thick buckled collar attached to the hood, and a buckle-on mask over the eyes. A zipper over the mouth can be locked to a small loop, ensuring the wearer cannot undo it, and the neck buckle has the same locking feature.

"Jesus Christ, Hermann," Newt moans, practically salivating at the mask. "That's for me?" The leather shines in the light, firmly molded into its head shape, and Newt can imagine the thick collar around his throat, pressed to his Adam's apple, can imagine the smooth interior, pitch black and muffling every sight, sound and touch, a darkness so overwhelming that all his external senses will be heightened.

"You like it, then?" Hermann is grinning, open and earnest and pleased that Newt is pleased. "I thought it looked both alien and fitting with your usual punk aesthetic."

"Dude, oh my god, you're the _best_. This had to have been expensive, though." It looks well-made and the leather is most certainly real, the rivets and buckles made from quality metals.

"I don't mind paying it," Hermann replies, the  _if it makes you happy_  remaining unspoken. "Shall we give it a try? We should test first to see your comfort and ability to handle this sort of thing. You'd said you'd never been masked before."

"I've been close," Newt says, squeezing his thighs together. His cock is throbbing madly with anticipation, he can't wait to wear this thing. "Blindfolded and gagged and ear plugs in."

Hermann nods, setting the pieces down and scooting closer, cupping Newt's face and kissing him softly. "It still isn't the same though, is it? I don't wish to cause you to panic."

"I'm gonna panic if you don't let me put that on in the next two minutes," Newt replies, winking at him. "Don't keep me waiting, babe!"

Hermann insists on unbinding Newt so that if he does panic, he can pull the thing off quickly. Newt sits cross-legged and unbuckles the belts with a feverish glee, tossing the small locks to Hermann to put aside. Long-term wear isn't the name of the game tonight, thought Newt is already thinking up scenarios where Hermann would lock him into the mask and leave him in it for a few hours, maybe with the eyes open, but probably chained to the bed or the fucking machine he's got stored under the bedframe. A leather prison to silence him, make him acquiescent to Hermann's control. God, he loves being under Hermann's control. The man is brilliantly fiendish yet caring and completely concerned with making Newt happy.

Unbuckled and waiting for him to put it on, he stares into the inside of the hood, taking a deep breath of air. The nose holes looked wide and well-formed to allow him plenty of oxygen, and the zipper up the back of the head means he doesn't have to work it onto his face like its latex. Still, it's the first time. He can admit he's a little nervous. So, he sucks in an extra deep breath of air and brings the hood up.

The eye mask isn't on, but the 'open' eyes are covered in leather patches that are pocked with small holes in the leather to allow him some vision. Hermann helps him by slowly drawing the zipper in the back down, the leather tightening around his head, pressing to his chin, his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. He breathes through his nose and finds the air a bit warm but more than enough to fill his lungs.

"Are you comfortable?" Hermann asks. "Should I buckle you in?"

Newt nods and rests his hands on his knees as Hermann pulls the big strap down over the zipper, buckling it in the back. Two smaller straps go across that one, and Newt shivers as Hermann tightens those, feeling the pressure against the sides of his head, grounding him in the hood, in the sensation of encasement by this material he has such a love for. The buckled collar completes the feeling, and Newt lets out a shudder, a muffled moan barely heard with the way the mask cuts off most every noise both inside and out.

Hermann's hand rests on his shoulder, a light touch magnified, every milliliter of his skin aware of the sensation. If he was fully blinded, it would make him jump; as such, he merely twitches and looks in the direction of the other man.

"Are you alright?" Hermann asks. His voice is raised, Newt can tell by the strain in the sound, but it sounds like its coming through water in the hood, like Newt is underwater and Hermann is shouting from the open air. Newt nods and unzips the mouth of the hood so he can speak freely for a moment.

"It's so comfortable, Herms," Newt says. He catches one of Hermann's hands and draws it towards him, kissing the back of his palm. "I love it. Thank you. Can we have some fun with it?"

"I had something in mind," Hermann says, nodding. "Do you think you'll be okay if I bind you again while you wear this?"

"I'll be mad if you don't, dude," Newt says, grinning. "Whatever you've got planned, surprise me. I promise, I'll do our three snap signal if anything goes wrong, but I really wanna get the full experience."

Hermann leans in to peck him on the mouth, something he won't be able to do later. "Alright. I won't be able to see your expression, obviously, so I'm going to be tapping inside your wrist every so often to ask if you're still okay. You need to give me a thumbs up if I'm okay to proceed. Otherwise, I'll begin removing things."

"Sir, yes, sir," Newt says, giddy to begin.

Hermann brings out the straps, and Newt almost squeals to see them. Long leather straps, three inches wide and of varying lengths, belt buckles at one end and stippled by holes down the whole body to allow them to be buckled at any length. He has Newt rest his arms at his sides and wraps a strap around his upper chest and lower, firmly buckling them, and then pushes him down onto his back so he can wrap three more straps around his legs: one around the thighs, one around the calves, and one around his ankles, binding them together. Newt tests the bindings, finding them comfortably tight; he won't be getting out of them easily, but he won't be losing any circulation if they're left on him.

Newt watches as Hermann's face comes into view, obscured through the leather patches. The other man is smiling, and Newt smiles back.

"Are you ready?" Hermann asks. "Promise to signal if I need to stop."

"I promise, I promise," Newt says, wriggling, his cock bouncing against his belly, wanting to be touched. "Can you only talk to me if it's absolutely necessary?" He wants silence; the mask will do an adequate job, but if Hermann yells, the illusion will be broken.

"Alright," Hermann agrees. He leans in, until Newt can read his expression better, see the mischievous glint in his eyes, the smirk on his face. "I'm going to enjoy shutting you up, Newton. Really, I should require you to wear this in the lab, it's only what you deserve, with that mouth of yours."

Before Newt can retort, Hermann has drawn the zipper shut, gagging him. There's movement he can barely see, and a sudden blackness as the eye mask is buckled into place.

Complete darkness, complete encasement. Newt sucks in a deep breath, straining to hear, to see anything he can, but there's nothing out there, as if the world around him has disappeared. He can still feel the straps around his body, the dip of the bed as Hermann shifts, the rawness of his backside pressed against the sheets. But once Hermann moves away, Newt lies still and the isolation, the true deprivation of sound and sight and speech come upon him. For one moment, he is terrified, unable to move, unable to think, floating in the blackness, no longer aware of his body in its place in space and time.

And then something brushes his shoulder.

Newt yelps and arches upwards. The touch was so light, and yet it sears against his nerve endings, a lifeline back to reality in the sea of bodily disconnection. Another brush against his stomach, ticklish, and Newt squirms, realizing it's something very gentle, likely a feather, that Hermann is drawing across his body. A mighty throb in his groin makes him jerk and moan loudly, his body responding to that chase for sensation by latching onto his heavy arousal.

Hermann draws the feather across his chest, down his legs, even tickling the bottom of his feet, making Newt gasp with laughter and twist in the bindings. Unable to pull away from the tickling, it's almost like torture, an overload of neurons firing at the tips of his toes. He tries to roll onto his side, to draw his legs up, but Hermann's hands haul him back into place, and Newt whimpers as Hermann's hand closes around his sack, squeezing in warning, a signal to stay put or Hermann may find an even more overwhelming torture. The heat of his hand is like fire, the tips of his nails dragging against the loose skin, a scratching pain that helps to temper the ache of want in Newt's belly.

The feather stops, and Newt is left to sink back into the blackness. He breathes more deeply, reminding himself that he's still on Earth, still in his bedroom, and Hermann is mere feet away. This time, the quiet and dark are more soothing, cradling him in their nothingness. He is a mind floating in a void, but it is a comfortable void that holds him gently, leaving him nothing to focus on and no way to connect to the outer world; the outer world full of worries and concerns. He is not there anymore, he is in this world, and there are no worries here.

Cold. Ice cold, ice against his chest, right against his nipple, freezing it to a painful firmness. Newt gasps, his toes curling, his fingers digging into his palms as the ice is swirled around his nipple, wet drops trailing down his side and settling in the crack between his torso and arm. Where has Hermann gotten ice? The bastard, the utter _bastard_ , leaves it pressed right against the nipple, until Newt finds himself squirming against the leather straps, begging for the cold to stop. It's far too much, a shock to his system. His cock twitches, it weeps, Newt can feel a bead of pre-come sliding right down the length, untouched and aching for sensation. It’s not fair, Newt thinks, as Hermann follows him with the ice, sliding it to give the same treatment to his other nipple, probably hearing his muffled pleading but ignoring it. Not fair to treat him like this, to tease and toy with him, as if he exists for Hermann to experiment on.

 _You let him do this_ , his mind reminds him as the ice shocks his other nipple to hardness. _You wanted this, wanted him to bind you in leather and mask you and take away all your control. You wanted to feel the leather and his hands and whatever else he wanted to give you._

Hermann takes the ice away after another moment, and Newt slumps against the bed, panting against the mask and breathing hard through the nose holes. The hood has warmed up, absorbing the heat of his head and his heated breathing. There's sweat pooling at the back of his neck and against his forehead, a stark contrast to the way the rest of his body feels freezing in the cool air of the room and the application of the ice. The only heat in his body is the pulsing heat in his groin, and he jerks his hips upwards impotently, knowing he'll find no relief. Hermann loves to do this, loves watching him shudder apart as every inch of skin receives contact but his cock. He says that Newt is beautiful in his desperate need for touch, and Hermann always looks at him with a fierce want and lust while he teases and toys with and tortures Newt. It usually sends Newt spinning into a wonderfully powerful orgasm.

Newt's nipples peak hard, painfully so in the cold. A sudden drop of heat burns as it splatters against his left nipple, and Newt yells then, thrashing as more drops splash across the abused nub, searing temperature contrasting the cold, and blossoming a sensation so powerful, he can't tell if its pain or relief. More drops hit his chest as whatever is causing them -- likely a candle, as the drops cool and harden very rapidly, like wax -- is shifted to drip over his other nipple, the same searing heat pulling a sob from his throat. He's twisting so hard, the leather straps bite into his skin. He loves this too, loves whatever the leather wants to give him. Sometimes it soothes, soft and supple against his skin, but sometimes it lashes and marks him, angry red lines that he stares at in the mirror, tracing and touching as he strokes himself to completion.

The drops of heated wax cease after a few moments. Newt thinks it’s over, but then he feels the shocking ice cold, this time drawn across his exposed belly, back and forth in a line, dipping into his belly button, the ice melting and cold water pooling into the hole. Newt shivers and bites his lip as the ice is drawn away, the anticipated heat splashing over the cooled skin a few moments later.

 _The bastard and his love of temperature play_ , Newt thinks, slumping back against the bed again. _I should've known he'd try this. Heightened sensation because of sensory deprivation, of course he'd want to experiment and see if it affected my responses._  Ever a scientist, even in the bedroom.

Hermann was right to hypothesize the increased awareness. Newt is hyper-aware of his body now, of the temperature of every inch of his skin, whether blazing or freezing. And yet inside the mask, all he can feel is leather, a comfortable surrounding that contrasts so starkly with the shock his body is experiencing that it threatens to render them two separate entities and pull him out of his own skin to float above himself in the void. He's never had an out of body experience before. It’s both unnerving and exciting to consider as a possibility. Hyper-awareness and hyper-dissonance, vying for his attention. Which is going to win out?

The ice finds its way to Newt's inner thighs, and the liquid wax soon after. Hermann varies his style here, drawing the ice in wide strokes and following with trails of wax immediately after. Newt is exhausted already by the treatment; he can only moan and shake and try to hold on as Hermann circles his groin with the ice and wax, coming perilously close to his cock but never touching. Newt would give anything to be touched there, even by ice and wax. The one area of sensation that has yet to be satisfied.

There is a pause in activity, and Newt wonders what Hermann is doing, until Hermann's hands grip Newt's hips and he finds himself being pushed, shoved and rolled over onto his stomach. The cold air hits his reddened, abused backside and he hisses at the sting. But his cock is finally against something, and he eagerly grinds downwards, moaning with relief.

Hermann's fingertips brush against Newt's wrist, and he taps there three times. Oh, the signal, right. Newt takes a breath and sticks his thumb out and up. This experience has been wild, nearly overwhelming, but he wants to keep going, to see what else Hermann might do.

The fingers draw away, and Newt rests his cheek against the mattress, the inner leather pressing to his skin, so heated now it almost feels like a hand cupping his face. The straps against his chest work lines into his torso; he'll ask Hermann to fuck him in front of a mirror later, so he can see them and remember the feeling while they do so.

He's starting to fall back into the comfortable void, but this time, Hermann starts with the wax, dripping it onto his abused backside, the stinging pain dragging him harshly back to reality. He bites down on his tongue to muffle the loud scream he was going to let out. Even if Hermann says he won't stop until Newt signals, Newt doesn't think he'd ignore a noise like that. But Newt doesn't want him to stop.

The wax splatter is more rapid this time, long rivulets rolling down his skin, trails of fire that thankfully only last for but a moment as the wax cools. It feels as though his whole backside is molded with wax as Hermann pours more and more of it, until it stops and there is no more. Newt is panting heavily by this time, and he's wondering how much more Hermann will give, and how much more he can take.

When Hermann's fingers drag against his cheek, Newt whimpers, in a daze. He's not sure of what Hermann is doing until he feels the fingernail nudge between the edge of the wax and his skin, and with a quick tug, Hermann yanks a length of the trailed wax off. The pull of the wax strip is agony. Newt can feel tears leaking out of his eyes, but before he can snap his fingers, end this all -- for it's too much, far too much -- he feels the ice rolling right over where the wax was pulled off. It's... it's so utterly _wonderful_  this time, soothing and calming to his inflamed skin. Newt moans and bucks forwards, delighted by feeling something so pleasant and relieving.

Hermann removes the rest of the wax in the same manner: quick tugs and peeling off Newt's skin with a sharp pain that is immediately replaced with the cool relief of the ice. Newt feels on the urge of dizzying madness, thrusting greedily against the mattress. He no longer feels human, animistic in his movements and wordless grunts, muzzled and bound up like a dangerous creature. Leather straps and a leather hood to keep him docile, contained, but comfortable in his imprisonment.

With the last of the wax gone, there is another moment to pause, and another three taps on the inside of Newt's wrist. Panting, exhausted, Newt signals a thumbs up. Hermann must know he's almost done for, must know that this needs to end. His body shivers with need, unable to push himself over the edge like this. He needs something more.

Newt lies in silence for a minute, until he feels the bed dip down behind him, and long legs sliding up to straddle his legs. There's a sudden, cool sensation dribbling onto the crack of his ass, and Hermann's fingers slick into the liquid, coating the area with a heavy amount of lubricant. Newt feels one finger pushing into him, and he squirms and sobs as the digit penetrates him. With his legs bound, the squeeze is tight, but he can feel every inch of Hermann rubbing against his insides, pleasurable sensations sparking down his spine.

Hermann's body drapes over him as he works his finger inside of Newt. "Would you like for me to take you like this, darling?" Hermann asks, the first voice in so long that Newt jumps in shock. "You'll be so tight, it will feel marvelous, I think. But tell me if you can handle it."

"Please!" Newt shouts against the leather. "Fuck me, Hermann, please, god!"

He's answered by a second finger pushing into him. The tightness is nearly unbearable, and his legs strain against the leather straps, trying to stretch wider and finding no way to do so. Hermann sees this and asks if he wants to be unbound, but Newt shakes his head, squeezing around Hermann's fingers. Hermann is right: if he fucks Newt like this, the squeeze will be ungodly. He wants it so badly, god, he _needs_  it.

Hermann is courteous enough to take his time stretching Newt out, adding a third finger, smart enough to not try and push deeper to get at his prostate. Newt has a feeling that the moment that magical little gland is stimulated, this will all be over. He rolls back against Hermann's fingers, mindless and needy with lust, whining when Hermann pulls his fingers out, as if he's forgotten what will be coming. There are no thoughts in his mind anymore, save for the aching knowledge that Hermann _must_  fuck him, and it must be done while Newt is contained by the leather. The straps and the hood will keep him secure, will hold him in place to be taken and claimed and broken in. Hermann must do this. Newt is too wild, untamed, cannot be allowed to roam free otherwise.

Hermann has done a good job preparing him, because when he pushes into Newt, the pressure is enormous but the pain non-existent. Newt cries out with relief, practically sobbing. There is only the darkness, the silence, the leather binding him, and the wonderful feeling of being filled. Hermann's hand strokes against Newt's shoulder as he thrusts in inch-by-inch, and Newt tries to push back to meet him. He wants to kiss Hermann so badly, he laps at the leather covering his lips, as if it will make up for the lack of his lover's tongue down his throat. They always kiss when Hermann fucks him, and if there's one downside to this hood, it’s that. Maybe next time, Hermann can flip him over and unzip the mouth, so Newt can feel himself being filled in two places.

"Hermann!" Newt cries as the other man presses to the hilt, the tufts of his pubic hair scratching and stinging against Newt's ass. It only lasts for a second, as Hermann pulls back and then snaps his hips forwards. Newt yells his name again, straining against his bindings, but this is good, this is necessary. Hermann's cock drives pleasure deep into his body, while the leather holds him still, marking him with angry red lines when he struggles and squirms. Pain and pleasure, silence and sensation, all of it coalescing in this moment. Newt knows nothing now but the leather and the cock claiming him, wants nothing more. He is bound and yet freed by this, not having to think about his movements or his body, other than how it’s being used by another person, by Hermann. Hermann, who puts up with all his eccentricities, and then buys him a gift so thoughtful, it’s shocking for a man supposedly mired in numbers and heartless calculation. Hermann, who constantly matches him as an equal, and yet to whom Newt wants to belong, mind and body and heart.

"Newton!" Hermann yells suddenly, and Newt feels him snap forwards, hard, plunging so deep that he finally hits Newt's prostate. That's the end of it. Newt screams out Hermann's name and bucks into the bed as he comes, his whole body alight with the relief of pleasure, his mind blanked out as it courses through him. There's heat pooling inside of him, filling him, and he faintly realizes as he collapses that Hermann has come too.

Hermann withdraws from Newt quickly, and the few moments of no touch are so painfully lonely. Thankfully they are short, as Hermann quickly works open the buckles on the hood and unzips the back, pulling it off Newt's face. Newt gasps in a hard breath as the light blinds him, clenching his eyes shut. His hair is matted to his forehead, and his body shivers as Hermann unbuckles each strap, letting it fall away to the bed, until Newt is fully free. Newt's eyes stay closed as Hermann pulls him tight against his chest, arms draped over his shoulders, lips pressed wetly to Newt's forehead.

"Talk to me, Newton," Hermann murmurs, stroking Newt's cheek. "I’m here. Tell me if you're alright."

"Yeah, 'm okay," Newt mumbles, coughing and breathing in Hermann's scent, heavy and tart in his nose. "That was... that was a lot."

"Did you like it?" Hermann asks. "Are you in any pain? I'm going to take care of you, I promise."

"You kind of already did, dude," Newt says hoarsely. "God... I've never felt anything like that. It was amazing."

"Good," Hermann says, breathing out audibly. "All I wanted was to make you happy."

"Awwww, dude," Newt says, nuzzling Hermann's chest. "You're the best. Like, utterly incomparable."

They sit for a while until Newt gets some of his strength back, and Hermann leads him to the shower, gently washing him down. Hermann towels him off when they get out, and Newt stands quietly and lets him. He likes this side of Hermann, always so concerned and caring after an intense session.

Back in the bedroom, Hermann instructs him to lie on his stomach, and spreads a cool ointment across his backside to cover the stinging bruises and redness. Newt can tell he'll have some trouble sitting properly for the next few days, but it's fine. He'll feel the ache and remember what Hermann did to him, and it'll put him right back in that headspace; usually he'll jack off to that memory alone for a few days after their sessions.

"I have one last surprise for you, dear," Hermann says as he rubs the last of the ointment into Newt's skin. "I'd like to blindfold you for this, if you're comfortable with that? I want you to feel it before you see it."

"More surprises? Jesus, dude. Alright, you've had some pretty awesome ideas tonight, so I think I can trust you," Newt teases, resting his cheek on his arms. "Go nuts."

Hermann has Newt sit up and drapes a simple cloth blindfold over his eyes. He kisses Newt soundly, promising that it will only take a few moments to set up. Newt hears rustling, and something being dropped onto the bed. Hermann's hand clasps Newt's, and he guides Newt to move back, kneeling on something flat and baggy. He frowns in confusion, unsure of what this is – it’s definitely leather, but much thinner and more flexible than the hood. A nudge to Newt's shoulder and he lies down, feeling more leather against his back. It curves over his shoulders with a bit of tugging from Hermann, who nudges Newt's arms into place at his sides, and pushes his legs together. More leather comes up over his feet, and then Newt hears a zipper being drawn closed, and gasps as he feels himself being enclosed wholly in the leather. The material molds against his body as the zipper is pulled up. His arms are comfortably pinned to his sides, his legs held straight, and the zipper ends just below his chin. There's more rustling, and Newt can feel a strap tighten around his upper body, and then another around his legs.

Wholly encased, Newt can't move, but he's fantastically comfortable, wrapped up completely in leather. It cocoons him, and he's grinning widely as Hermann removes the blindfold, expression uncertain but hopeful.

"Is it okay?" Hermann asks, twisting the blindfold between his fingers.

"Dude, it's fucking unbelievable! You bought me a goddamn _sleepsack_? Are you shitting me?" Newt says, moaning happily as he squirms and settles into the feeling of being encased. "I don't think I've ever been this comfortable in my life."

Hermann chuckles, eyes twinkling with happiness. "You look it. Do you think you can manage being zipped into it overnight? I read that is the main point of these things."

"Oh my god yes, I'm never sleeping any other way ever again. Dude, this is real leather. This is _expensive_ ," Newt says, suddenly realizing the exorbitance of the cost. And considering the hood as well... "How much did this cost you?"

"The number isn't important," Hermann says, sliding up to lie besides him, propped up on an elbow. "What's important is that you like it."

"But, dude, you can't- you can't just buy me things that are this expensive!"

"And who will be stopping me? Certainly not you, not while you're bound up like this," Hermann says, leaning over Newt. He kisses him gently, resting his forehead against Newt's. "I wanted to, Newton. I barely spend money on myself and seeing you happy is reward enough."

Newt swallows heavily, blinking back tears. "Oh my god. _Dude._ "

"What- why are you crying?!"

"Because you're... you're just the goddamn _best_ ," Newt wails, overwhelmed by everything he's feeling, by the whole of this evening. He's warm and secure and safe and cared for and wanted.

Hermann chuckles and yanks Newt to roll onto his side and rest his head on Hermann's shoulder. "I'll be sure to remind you of that the next time you're off on a tear about me."

"I love you, Herms, so _f-fucking_  much," Newt babbles. He's never really said it out loud, even though he's felt it for a while. But it just feels right now, after tonight.

Hermann presses a kiss to his forehead, lips quirking in a smile. "I know. You're quite transparent with your feelings, _mein liebling_. You know that I love you as well?"

"I don't get why, but yeah," Newt replies, closing his eyes. "Pretty sure you only buy a dude a sleepsack if you love him."

"Quite true," Hermann says, reaching and shutting off the light. "Now, you'd better get started on using my investment, my odd little leatherhead."

Newt isn't sure how he got so lucky. But snuggled up in leather, tucked against the side of the man he loves, he's pretty sure it doesn't matter how. Only that he is.

**Author's Note:**

> The leather pieces described within are real and can be viewed [here](https://store.gearleather.com/bulldog-harness-2-0-black-piping), [here](https://store.gearleather.com/bondage-bdsm/bdsm-restraints/heavy-bondage-restraints/wrist-to-ball-restraint), [here](https://store.gearleather.com/bondage-bdsm/bondage-hoods-muzzles/leather-hoods-muzzles-masks/the-sci-fi-hood), and [here](https://store.gearleather.com/bondage-bdsm/bdsm-restraints/heavy-bondage-restraints/bondage-belts-set-of-5) (WARNING: links to an extremely NSFW site where sex-specific leather is purchased. A lot of graphic nudity and sex contained therein)


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